


What Was Lost Is Now Found

by Ceallaigh



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Fix-It, Memory Loss, RFFA Valentine's Exchange 2020, Tros fix-it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-14
Updated: 2020-02-14
Packaged: 2021-02-27 18:27:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22610215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ceallaigh/pseuds/Ceallaigh
Summary: "Quick! Bring the best robe and put it on him. Put a ring on his finger and sandals on his feet. Bring the fattened calf and kill it. Let's have a feast and celebrate. For this son of mine was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found."The Parable of the Prodigal Son, New International VersionWith no memories of the past, his mind was nothing more than a void of vast emptiness. He couldn’t remember how he got there. It sounded insane, but he even wondered if he was actually there the moment before. When he closed his eyes, fleeting images of a metallic mask, a world collapsing on itself, the touch of a weathered hand across his cheek and a beautiful woman dressed in white flickered from the dark recesses of his mind. But none of it made sense. He had no idea what those images represented or who that woman was. Did she mean something to him? Was she an enemy, friend or lover?
Relationships: Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren, Rey/Kylo Ren/Ben Solo
Comments: 42
Kudos: 102
Collections: For one is both and both are one in love: The Reylo Fanfiction Anthology's Valentine's Day Exchange, TROS Reylo Fix-it Fics





	1. Lost

**Author's Note:**

  * For [punkeraa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/punkeraa/gifts).



The springtime monsoon season had come to Batuu and for the seventeenth day straight, sheets of unrelenting rain pelted down from the sky. It is as the sun had been blotted out and its wake, a deluge of a never-ending downpour. The banks of the river spilled over on both sides, swallowing everything in its path with no regard for what it stole on the water’s race to the sea.

The rains were purifying, purging the village of the visible layers of grime that clung to every surface. Eavestroughs on rooftops overflowed while rain barrels below overflowed. Streets flowed with tiny rivers with refuse floating by like tiny boats. Where the paved roads yielded to dirt pathways on the outskirts of town, the saturated ground transformed into a quagmire of mud.

As the last remnants of day yielded to the darkness of dusk, jagged bolts of lightning danced across the evening sky. Thunder echoed its response. Sentients hurried on their way home in a desperate attempt to outrun the rain. Everything was soaked and soggy with little chance of drying out until the colder, winter months.

On the outskirts of town, the tiny mission served as a shelter for so many indigent trying to weather the storm. A warm meal to fill a belly, a dry bed to rest a weary head for a night or two, it was a safe haven for the downtrodden to find respite where the faithful regaled in the wonders of the Force. With the First Order’s defeat, the mission no longer had to exist in the shadows, and the faithful more emboldened to worship and serve at the Church of the Force.

Thunder echoed off the buildings, and lightning continued to light up the sky. One minute he was nothing but a memory forgotten by the galaxy around him, the next the stranger was writhing in pain on the ground, covered from head to toe in mud. His left leg throbbed in agony, but it was his pelvis that made movement all but impossible. He tried in vain to roll over, and he cried out in pain as he feebly attempted to shift to his side.

His hands gripped for anything for support but only found handfuls of wet mud. Soaked, naked and disoriented and absolutely overwhelmed like a newborn infant, the stranger shivered as he tried to curl himself into a defensive ball. He was far to exhausted to even attempt to rise and stand. Everything hurt. His head pounded, and his limbs felt as if they were filled with lead.

Countless others walked past him without giving him a second glance.

A luggabeast hauling a cart nearly ran him over, spraying him with a shower of mud as it trotted past. He opened his mouth to beg for, but that desperate plea was nothing more than a rasping whisper, “Help!” He didn’t have the strength to even call out.

With no memories of the past, his mind was nothing more than a void of vast emptiness. He couldn’t remember how he got there. It sounded insane, but he even wondered if he was actually there the moment before. When he closed his eyes, fleeting images of a metallic mask, a world collapsing on itself, the touch of a weathered hand across his cheek and a beautiful woman dressed in white flickered from the dark recesses of his mind. But none of it made sense. He had no idea what those images represented or who that woman was. Did she mean something to him? Was she an enemy, friend or lover?

The more he searched for answers, the more confusing everything became.

And then it dawned on him.

He didn’t even know his own name.

His mind was blank, and he was alone, completely and utterly alone in a dark and filthy world.

o.o.o

The sandstorm screamed outside her dwelling for the third night, the wind whistling through to the gaps of the synthrock exposures. In her first three months on Tatooine, Rey had managed to reclaim several of the rooms in the Lars Homestead from the sand that had crept into every bit of the crater home. Nearly two years since, she hadn’t bothered to excavate the rest. She had all she needed—a kitchen, sitting area, bedroom and fresher. It was bone-aching work that had gifted her with dreamless sleep at night. It was the one saving grace of the barren wasteland where currency was often measured in potable water. Her days were filled with unbidden memories that pushed their way into her consciousness without permission—those fleeting seconds before the Force stole Ben from her. A kiss, a shy smile, and that impossible wish that the future could be theirs.

She welcomed those dreamless nights where she didn’t have to miss him, where she could sleep like the dead and forget about everything for a few hours at a time. In those small hours of the night, time stood still, and they were only respite from it all.

A thin sheen of sweat covered the surface of her skin, and the sheet clung to her body as she rolled over in her sleep. In the distance, the faint hum of a motor whirred in the background, air circulated through the ventilation system. It was never quite cool enough, but infinitely better than the stifling heat outside.

She let out a breathy sigh. It started as nothing more than a spark in the darkest folds of her mind, nothing more than an idea, a point of light. But as it crept slowly into her subconscious, it took on form and substance.

A shadow.

A shadow that shivered and curled in on itself. One that felt nothing but pain and fear.

Rey felt herself drawn to it. It had been months since she had felt that type of connection to another realty. If she reached out she could almost touch it, but it remained a fingertip way, no matter how much closer she drew.

It was just a dream, her sleeping mind tried to lie to her. Nothing was real in a dream.

But she knew that signature. It had been painfully absent since Exegol. What once was a raw and gaping maw in the Force that ached incessantly like a phantom limb felt—for those brief seconds—like a bond connecting her elsewhere.

Rey woke with a gasp and sat bolt upright. The room was cast in darkness. The only illumination came from a small blue footlight in the hallway outside her bedroom. As she untangled herself from the bedding, she saw it, a huddled form on the floor beside her bed, as if it was trying to make itself as small as possible. Pale bare skin stood out in the darkness.

It was impossible. He’d died there well over a year ago. In those dozens and dozens of days since—old habits died hard, and she counted every single one of them—she had never seen his spirit, never received any reassurance that he had made his way safely to the World Beyond. Yet there was no mistaking his naked form on the floor.

The phantom before her let out a weak cry and drew himself tighter into a ball.

Force spirits weren’t completely nude. They certainly weren’t covered in grime. And they certainly weren’t supposed to be in pain.

“Ben?” she whispered, silently praying that he would not vanish as she breathed hope into words.

But he didn’t hear her, or if he did, he didn’t respond.

It had to be a dream. She’d wake any second and find herself alone with her memories once again. She hated the Force for stealing him away and leaving her with cruel visions like this. She had saved the galaxy, but at what cost? She was unable to help him, her Ben who had been finally ready to return home.

This didn’t feel like a vision. It felt real. It felt tangible, like every time the bond had drawn them together when had been alive.

Kneeling down, she reached out to touch him in a desperate attempt to let him know she was still there. Even if he was on the other side, she wanted him to know that she hadn’t forgotten him.

He cried out at something she could not see.

“I’m here, Ben,” she said as she reached out to touch him. For a split second she could feel the warm of his shoulder against her finger tips. The connection was electric. But before she could say anything more, that heat leached away and his form started to fade until she was the only person once again in her bedroom.

He had vanished once again, just like on Exegol.

She was alone once again. And she hated the Force more now than ever.

o.o.o

While it wasn’t as imposing as the castle that had previously sat beside the lakeshore on Takodana, Maz Kanata’s new fortress had started to take on more form by the day. Since the end of the war, she had managed to rebuild her own apartments as well as the first wing of her inn. She hadn’t even broken ground on the west wing before guests started to seek refuge for days and weeks on end. The First Order was no more, and the pirate network was flourishing more than ever.

Music filtered through the cantina and into the kitchens. This time it was Chandrilan jazz. She had missed the joys that a live band and several rounds of drinks could bring her customers.

She grabbed an empty carafe that had been left behind on table before making her way to the kitchen. She needed more space or she’d be turning patrons away. Two more weeks, the foreman had reassured her earlier in the day. But the damned stonemasons always seemed to drag the timeline out. The duracrete had already set on the second landing tarmac, and she wanted to fill rooms. And by rooms, she wanted to fill her pockets. The loan to rebuild was not going to repay itself.

She nodded at the chef barking out orders as she headed to the dishwashing room. While she was more than happy to clear a table or two, she had droids to wash the endless parade of glassware each night.

Yet as she winded her way toward the washers, she felt a tremor in the Force. Her connection to it was different than Jedi or Sith. But she felt it nevertheless. It didn’t feel like a cold knife like it did when she felt another adept pass into the World Beyond. Death always brought a sting and an ache that took her breath away. She’d felt it when Master Yoda had passed decades before, and she’d felt it when Leia and her son had shed this mortal coil.

This was different.

It gripped at her innards and made her dizzy for a moment. The glass carafe slipped from her hand and shattered into a hundred pieces when it crashed to the stone floor below. She could’ve sworn the hallway lights had flickered for a second.

This wasn’t death in the Force. On the contrary, this was something far different, something she’d never felt before. It was powerful, all-consuming, yet so very, very confusing.

It was life emerging from nothingness.

Maz closed her eyes for a moment and tried to make sense of it all. She focused on that pulsing bit of energy, but all she could discern was something that reminded her of a rainstorm. It felt like thunder and lightning.

But there it was. A heartbeat. One that she recognized.

She opened her eyes, and the realization of what she’d sensed finally solidified in her mind. The rational part of her mind tried to make sense of it. What she’d felt was impossible. That part she understood. But nothing was ever simple when it came to the Skywalkers. An extinguished line that had died in the final battle against evil was once again flickering with life.

“Ben Solo,” she whispered as the dead man's name spilled from his lips.

o.o.o

It had taken nearly two weeks to make contact with him, and Maz wasn’t convinced he’d respond until she saw the _Razor Crest_ break atmo, the sun reflecting off its weathered hull. It had been years since he’d accepted his last marker and tracked down a quarry. He had to be over seventy standard years old, perhaps even seventy-five by then, but she wasn’t certain. So much of the Mandalorian culture was shrouded in mystery, and she was never quite certain how old Din Djarin claimed to be. But he was the only person she trusted with this task. If the Force willed it, he would help her.

It was encouraging that he at least accepted the marker from the guild and had made the journey to Takodana. It meant he was at least willing to talk.

Maz made her way to her apartments. This discussion required discretion, and she didn’t want to jeopardize this mission. If she had any hope of finding Ben Solo, she couldn’t risk letting anyone know. There were enough denizens in the galaxy that would jump at the chance to kill him.

She set a pot of tea on the table in her parlor. Or course he wouldn’t drink it. That would require him to remove his mask, and that was strictly against _The Way_. They had been friends for decades. He has slept under her roof too many times to count. But in all of the years, she had never seen him without his mask. The only thing that had changed was the Mudhorn sigil he wore to signify his clan. It was a sigil she was proud to display among the other banners that fluttered once again in the breeze. She hadn’t seen him in nearly twenty years, and it would be good to catch up with an old friend.

She shooed her two lothcats into the back bedroom. It was a common courtesy after all. This wasn’t going to be a social call. It was business. There would be time to reminisce and catch up if and when he returned with his quarry.

Maz didn’t have to wait long before her valet entered the parlor. Behind her stood her old friend, every bit a proud Mandalorian armed to the hilt and covered in beskar armor. He waited silently for her to gesture to the table and invite him into the room.

“Mando!” she greeted him. “Welcome to Takodana. My home is yours.”

He leaned his rifle against the settee before he took a seat at the table. She knew that he would never leave his firearm out of arm’s reach in any negotiation. But this wasn’t some guild tavern in the Outer Rim. He didn’t have to worry about being ambushed or shot in the back in her fortress. As she always did, she poured out two steaming cups of tea. The aroma of bergamot wafted in the air. She offered him a cup, and with it her hospitality and promise of a safe and secure meeting.

“You haven’t changed a bit, Maz,” he said as he waved the cup away. She could hear his smile through the vocoder in his helmet.

Maz tugged at her goggles, removing them and wiping each lens in the hem of her tunic before returning them to her face. “You look good, Mando,” she said.

“If you wanted to catch up on old times, all you had to do was comm me,” He said as he retrieved the marker she had presented to the guild and held it between them. “But I’m too old for this. Surely you could’ve found someone younger for your debt collections.”

She added a spoonful of sugar to her tea and stirred it around in the cup a few times before she raised the cup to her lips, blew away the steam and took a sip. “But you showed all the same. This isn’t a debt I’m calling in,” she explained. “It’s more delicate than that. I need your expertise.”

“Maz, I’m retired,” he sighed. “I’ve been so for almost fifteen years.”

“I don’t trust anyone else.”

She reached under the table and lugged the case that she had placed beneath it onto the tabletop. It was heavy and unwieldy. Using her fingerprint to activate the lock, Maz popped the case open and revealed it was filled to the brim with Imperial beskar ingots.”

“Been saving these for a rainy day,” she grinned. They were more than he’d likely ever seen in one place. the case was priceless on the black market, worth millions in Galactic credits and even more to the Mandalorian clans. “Think of all the Foundlings you could help with that.”

He ran his gloved hand over the top layer of beskar. If he wasn’t interested before, he’d definitely would be piqued now. That many ingots could support generations of Foundlings.

“How dangerous is this going to be?” he asked. She knew it! Mando was such a creature of habit. All it took was a fortune in beskar and the promise to help the next generation, and she had played his heartstrings like a well-tuned harp.

“Not overly dangerous,” she explained as she snapped the case shut once again. “But I will admit you’ll have little to work off. I need you to find someone.”

“That much is obvious.”

She retrieved a pocket-size holoprojector from her vest and activated it. Above the tabletop, the know charted galaxy winked into life, and a three-dimensional map emerged above them.

“I think he’s in the Trilon sector,” she explained. Maz highlighted the Batuu system in the furthest reaches of the Outer Rim, the last stop over in the known galaxy before entering Wild Space and the Unknown Regions. With the advent of hyperspace lanes, its outpost had become nothing but a backwater stopping ground for the underbelly of the galaxy. It was where were lost and never found again.

“I need you to bring him in warm,” she added, “and I don’t want anyone else to know about it”

He nodded as he took in her request.

“But why me, Maz?” he asked. “There are several trustworthy Mandalorians in the guild you could ask that are half my age and have two good knees.”

“I don’t trust anyone else, Mando,” she said. “Others will be just as tempted to bring him in cold. And if other factions find out he is out there, they will kill him for sure. He’s a Force user, and he’s lost.”

He rose from the table and walked out over to the door that opened out to the balcony. Maz followed behind and joined him as they both took in the view of the lake below, its surface shimmering in the warm sunlight of midday. His sigh sounded odd through the vocoder, but she could tell he was contemplating the offer.

“He’s not all that different than the Foundling you welcomed into your clan,” she explained. “He’s been given a second chance, but needs to find his way home.”

“What’s so special about this person?” He asked.

Maz turned to him. This was going to sound insane, and she wouldn’t blame him. To anyone who did not understand the Force, it would sound ridiculous. So, she cut to the chase and spat it out.

“He died almost two years ago.”

Mando laughed. “You’re offering me a small fortune to hunt down a corpse?” he asked. “You said you wanted me to bring him in warm. I think that’s going to be impossible.”

“Lets just say the Force had other plans for him,” she tried to explain. Closing the distance, she played her hand on his arm and called him by a name very few knew.

“Din,” she added, “I want you to find Leia Organa’s son Ben.”

o.o.o

The springtime monsoons seemed like a lifetime ago. The blistering summer had yielded to a crisp and tolerable fall, but now that winter was setting in, the nights were unforgiving and bone-chilling cold. For the stranger, each day was marked with a quiet celebration that he had survived another night without being beaten or robbed. It’s how he lost his shoes the cleric at the Mission had gifted him after they had briefly taken him in. There were too many of them. He’d put up a good fight, but a kick to the head and the world had gone black. When he’d woke in the alleyway, his shoes were gone, and all he had to show for it was an eye swollen shut, a blinding headache and nausea, its constant companion. Since then, he hadn’t bothered with finding a new pair. But it didn’t stop the thieves from attacking. Three nights ago he’d been jumped over a rucksack he kept his meager belongings in.

Everything still hurt as he tried to doze in a doorway in the merchant district of the slums. The shops opened later in the day on Benduday. There was no one to shoo him out of way just yet. It was vastly safer to sleep during the day when the sun chased the most merciless of the marauders and bandits away. Despite the sun that filtered through the upper slumps to the base of the duracrete canyon, it was still hovering around freezing. All he had was ratty blanket to ward off the chill. He didn’t bother to barter for a coat to keep him warm. He had neither the credits to purchase one nor the goods to barter for one. The next best solution was to huddle into a ball and try to fit as much of his gangly limbs within its meager cover. All that remained exposed were his lower legs and his filthy bare feet.

For the most part, the other denizens ignored him, as did the other vagrants that sought shelter. Occasionally the more fortunate would gift him with a spare credit chip or a hunk of bread from the market. Days were marked with hunger, a gnawing pain in the pit of his stomach that never seemed to go away. Fatigue was its constant companion. It had been three, maybe four days since he’d last eaten. The first two days he could usually ignore it and push the hunger aside with several gulps of water from his bottle. But that was always short lived, and his belly ached to be filled. Too exhausted to beg, he tried to conserve his energy and sleep until the Mission would open its monthly soup kitchen. He didn’t have time for stubborn pride. He’d bow his head in thanks, listen to the cleric pontificate on the beneficent nature of the Force, and he’d briefly let the bowl of gruel warm his hands before finally eating. He didn’t have to believe in the Force to welcome the Mission’s compassion in this cold and cruel corner of the galaxy.

He had just about drifted to sleep when he heard the metallic clink of a credit dropping between his feet. Reaching out with one hand, he grasped the chip with one hand and drew it close. He could tell by the size it was five-credit coin. He wouldn’t go hungry that night. It wouldn’t purchase much, but he knew it was more than enough to buy a single-serving polystarch loaf that he could stretch out for three days..

“Blessings,” he uttered to his anonymous benefactor. It was those rare moments of kindness that kept him moving forward, putting one step in front of the other.

“Go on, get out of here!” a voice yelled at him as a boot connected with his hip. He’d spent too much time in one place, and shopkeeper evicted him from his perch on her doorway. The credit chip slipped from his hand. Before he could recover it, the coin flew across the street. There was no sense looking for it. It was gone. Someone had likely already picked it up, and he once again had nothing.

He wanted to cry, but only had the energy to wince before he slowly dragged himself to a stand.

“If I have to call the constable, he’ll crack your skull open like an egg!” she added with a threat.

Before he could apologize, let alone leave, her broomstick connected painfully with his back. It wasn’t the first time a shopkeeper lashed out. He was used to it. Too tired and frail to fight back, he absorbed the blow, and quietly retrieved what little he owned before limping away.

His lower leg had never healed correctly. How he’d broken it, like everything in his life before the night he’d woken in the rain, was still shrouded in mystery. He’d worn out his welcome, and it was time to move on. Gathering his blanket, he rolled it into a bundle and tied it up with a cord.

Nobody cared about a wraith living on the street with long, matted hair and filthy rags for clothing. It was fitting he didn’t have a name. He didn’t even bother to give himself one either. Names were only for people. After all, he was just a rat that lived in the shadows. They didn’t deserve names.

The stranger didn’t look back at the angry merchant. He needed to find a new place to rest where he would be safe, even if it were for only an hour or two. It was probably a good idea that he got up and moved around. It would likely help him warm up a bit. The winter was going to unforgiving. It was barely a week after the solstice, and the temperature were threatening to drop even lower. He’d be lucky if he made it through the cold snap without losing a toe or two to frostbite. He’d do just about anything for a pair of boots. He wasn’t picky. They didn’t have to match, and as long he could fit his large feet into them, they would be just fine.

There were a lot of things he wanted that he knew he neither deserved not would ever have—a warm bed. Clean clothes. A hot hydro in a fresher. A place to not worry if he’d be stabbed in his sleep. It was all too easy to be forgotten in the grimy underbelly of this backwater world. Survive to live another day, that’s what he had to do each and every day, but was it worth it? If life was a constant struggle with hunger, fear and exhaustion, was it worth fighting to stay alive. Oh, it was so very tempting to give up and fade away. No one would even know he was gone. There would be no one to mourn his death.

His legs felt rubbery, and he felt dizzy as he walked to the market square. The green grocers and bakers were setting the stalls up for the day. It was the absolute wrong place to walk through when you couldn’t remember your last meal. The vendors ignored him as he wove his way through. A few minutes before, he’d held a five-credit chip in his hands with the promise that he could afford something to quiet his hunger. Now that he was creditless, the displays of breads, nut and fruits mocked him. His stomach growled in protest. He could look, but he knew he was forbidden to touch.

He glanced around and surveyed his surroundings. The constables hated it when vagrants loitered in the market. They off scared paying customers. It was the easiest way to get thumped on the head with a nightstick.

The stranger was tired, so very tired. The green grocer’s stall caught his eye. He’d purchased pulpy fruits the few times he had the credits to buy them. The grocer was usually kind, unlike other who would pretend they could not see him and ignored him completely. In the distance he spied a pair of constables and a Mandalorian scanning the crowd.

He looked back at the grocer. He was busy helping a pair of Rhodian women, filling their basket with fruit and tubers. Limping past the two women, he heard them snicker at his appearance. He glanced over his shoulder to make sure the grocer was still busy, he cautiously surveyed the table and the fruits on the display before quickly grabbing a fat cempedak and taking off in a sprint. He knew it was wrong, but the grocer had dozens of them. One wouldn’t matter.

“Kriffing thief!” the grocer yelled at him as the stranger tried desperately to put some distance between himself and the market. He tucked the fruit in the cradle of his arm and ran toward the tangle of narrow alleyways that were his only chance at escape.

He’d stolen a few times over the past season or two. He knew it was wrong, but this time he couldn’t stop that shaky feeling that was starting to settle in that made it impossible to concentrate and think straight. Hunger always seemed to rear its ugly head in newer and more exhausting ways. If he could make it to the alley, his chances of not getting caught grew exponentially.

As he turned toward his escape route, that Mando he’d seen in the market rounded the corner toward him holding a small pocket scanner of some sort. He could feel the bounty hunter stare straight at him. He wasn’t going to wait to ask any questions and new the sooner he got away from him the better. There was no way in hell a grocer had contracted a Mando to hunt him down for petty theft. Surely he wasn’t the target.

“You, wait!” the Mando called to him, startling him to a stop. “I need to talk to you.”

The stranger wasn’t a fool. He wasn’t going to fall for that. Luckily knew the slums like the back of his hand. Their gazes met for a moment, but the stranger quickly turned and darted away.

“I’m too old for this,” the Mando sighed before chasing after him.

The stranger dodged and weaved the refuse and barriers of the alleyway. He skirted around a sanitation droid trying it’s best to clean the alley of grime and debris. Looking over his shoulder, he spotted the Mando following close behind. The stranger pulled over two tall, narrow dumpsters in a vain attempt to slow the Mando from pursuing him.

“Stop running, kid,” the Mando spat out and the rotting contents from the dumpster spilled on to his armor before kicking the bin out of the way. “I’m not here to hurt you.”

The stranger knew these alleyways like the back of his hand. One lead to drinkable water. Two alleys down and there was a covered alcove that was the best place to ride out a rainstorm. Another lead to the river. Yet another would take him to the sewer network beneath the village where he could hopefully shake the bounty hunter on his tail. A turn to the right and it was a sprint to the hidden grate that opened to the world below.

Or was it a left?

The stranger quickly ran out of alley and found himself in a dead end. There was no gate hidden behind a rain barrel. There was no easy escape. He’d taken a wrong turn and the Mando quickly closed the distance between them. He didn’t stand a chance, but he wasn’t going down without a fight. His heart hammered in his chest, and anxiety clawed at him, threatening to swallow him whole. He was going to die, or get captured, or whatever happens to an unlucky soul when a Mandalorian hunts them down. Unarmed, all he had for weapons were his ratty blanket and the cempedak he had stolen.

Grabbing the cempedak, he cocked his arm back and hurled it at the Mando who already had his rifle drawn. “Take it if it means so much to Bhavin!” he yelled at him. He still couldn’t believe the grocery had sent a Mandalorian after him. Clearly the bounty cost vastly more than all the fruit he’d managed to steal since the harvest.

The Mando didn’t even flinch as the fruit sailed toward him. He pulled the trigger on his rifle, and the cempedak exploded into a thousand pulpy bits. Turning the gun toward the stranger he fired a bolt at him. Miraculously, the stranger dodged the blast and it ricocheted off the wall behind him. He loaded another bolt into the chamber and fired a second time. The stranger flinched away. The bolt missed him by only inches. The Mando let out a growl of frustration and fired a third shot at the stranger.

“Stop shooting at me!” the stranger pleaded and threw his hand up as if he could somehow catch the bolt before it reached him. To his surprise, the blue bolt of energy shuddered to a stop mid-air inches from his face, twitching and snarling as if it were still trying to reach its destination.

His breath came in ragged gasps as he stared at the suspended bolt. It was impossible. No one could stop a laser bolt with a wish and a prayer. Yet somehow he knew if he brought his arm down, the bolt would resume its course toward him.

He looked at the bounty hunter and tried to explain. “I didn’t mean to,” he tried to explain, worried the act had only made the Mando angrier. He was already sore and exhausted. He didn’t want to incur the hunter’s wrath. “Don’t hurt me, please.”

“I’m not going to hurt you,” the Mando answered as he pulled the trigger again. A fresh bolt struck the stranger in the middle of the chest. He had no time to react as it made impact. It took his breath away and threw him back several meters, slamming him into the durabrick wall behind him, the bolt he’d stopped into the air completed its journey and struck him in shoulder, adding insult to injury.

The blow took his breath away as every muscle in his body momentarily seized up before he slid to the ground motionless. The bolt packed a punch, and his chest throbbed in agony. But it didn’t blow a hole right through him like he’d expected.

Instead he found himself unable to lift a finger. His limbs felt like they had been replaced with lead. It wasn’t a killing shot. The Mando had struck him with a stun blast. It still hurt like hell, but he wasn’t going to die that way.

“I can’t move,” the stranger said as the Mando stood over him and reached for a pair of cuffs. 

“If you would’ve listened to me, kid,” the Mando answered, grabbing both of the stranger’s wrists and snapping the cuffs around them, “I wouldn’t have shot you.”

“I can’t feel my face,” the stranger complained. “I think I’m dying!

“You’ll live,” the Mando replied. With a sigh. “It should wear off in a minute or so.”

The Mando checked the cuffs and slung his rifle over his shoulder. Pulling out a biometric detector, he scanned the strangers face, likely obtaining a retinal scan. When he was finished, he said, “It didn’t look like you were surrendering when you threw that fruit at me or decided to use the Force.”

“I didn’t use the Force!” the stranger countered. “Okay, I did, but I didn’t know I could.”

The Mando hauled him up until he was sitting upright. His body still felt like it was made of gelatin, and he could barely hold his head up. With each passing second, the paralysis felt less and less. “What do you mean you didn’t know you could use the Force?”

The stranger tried his best to shrug. His muscles still wouldn’t fully cooperate. “That’s me,” he answered. “Everything thing’s a big secret. Woke up one day and couldn’t remember a kriffing thing—how I got here, where I came from…”

“You don’t remember anything?”

The stranger gave the bounty hunter a sad smile then started at his bound hands that rested limply in his lap. Letting out a sigh, he answered, “Not a thing, not even my name.”

“Ben,” the Mando quietly noted. The stranger took a moment to process word, then tilted his head as if he were trying to make sense of it. “That’s your name.”

“You know who I am?”

“I know people who are looking for you,” the Mando clarified.

Ben nodded as he turned his name over in his mind. It felt weird on his tongue, so he didn’t say it out loud. He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to grab any memory that may have come from learning his name. To his frustration, those memories were still nothing but darkened shadows.

“Am I in trouble?” Ben asked.

The Mando shook his head before answering, “No, they just want you to come home.”

After months of suffering, it was comforting to know someone was out there wondering where he had gone. Maybe they had the answers to unlocking his hidden memories.

“Do you know my family?” he asked.

The Mando paused for a moment as if he were trying to search for the diplomatic answer to the question. “I’ll let them answer your questions when we get there.”

The bounty hunter rose to his feet before grabbing Ben by the cuffs. He gave them a strong tug and pulled him to a stand beside him. When Ben’s legs didn’t give out, the Mando said, “Looks like the stun is wearing off. I’ll make a deal with you kid. No more trying to run or any other funny business, and I won’t put the Force suppressor around neck, okay?”

It’s not as though Ben had a choice. He was going with the Mando whether he wanted to or not, but the bounty hunter was the first person in ages that wasn’t intentionally trying to hurt him. And he was going to put him in touch with his family.

Ben nodded. “I won’t cause any problems,” he conceded. “I promise.”

“Good,” the Mando said. “It’s so much easier when you agree to cooperate. When you feel like you’re ready to walk, we’ll head out. My ship not too far, just a few clicks from here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompts used for this story:
> 
> Ben Solo struggling in a post-redemption life.  
> Ben and Rey talking to other characters than each other.  
> Hand holding. Pretty sure I included that one as well.


	2. Found

o.o.o

Ben didn’t know how long he’d dozed in the _Razor Crest_ cockpit, but when he woke there was a quilted blanket—one that was in vastly better condition than the one he’d left behind in the alleyway—covering him. His hands were still cuffed together, both still clinging to the bottle from the hydromeal he’d drank before he fell asleep. He wasn’t able to sweet talk that release. His chest ached where the stun bolt slammed into him. From the way it felt, there had to be a huge bruise blossoming underneath his tattered tunic. He opened his eyes and yawned. Brilliant streaks of blue blurred past in the hyperspace lane. They were mesmerizing and hypnotic, but if he stared at them long enough, he began to feel nauseated.

“Don’t look out there too long,” the Mando as he snaked past him and took his seat in the pilot’s chair. “Hyperspace sickness is worse than you think, and I don’t want you vomiting everywhere in here.”

An alarm on the console chirped, and the bounty hunter eased his ship out of hyperspace. The smudges of light yielded to the vibrant colors of the planet that emerged in front of them, a giant orb awash in the tones of a verdant planet—lush greens from the vegetation, brilliant blues heralding the oceans and inland seas.

“Where are you taking me?” Ben asked,

“That’s Takodana,” the Mando explained, “and hopefully it has the answers you’re searching for.

The landing process was quick and painless, and it didn’t take long for Ben and the Mando to walk through the courtyard. Banners and sigils from all over the galaxy fluttered in the breeze in the courtyard. Beyond that, a massive door that opened into the castle before them.

When they reached the main entrance, the Mando activated sensor system. Within second, and small hatch in the heavy door opened and a small droid, no bigger than a hand-held thermal detonator anchored an extendable arm shot out at shoulder level.

“Greetings and Salutations,” it announced in a tinny voice. “Welcome to the Respite on the Lake. What is the nature of your visit?”

“Maz is expecting us,” Mando replied as Ben fidgeted at his side.

The droid turned to Ben and sized him up. It let out an exasperated sigh and answered, “I am not sure your companion’s dress is acceptable. Madame Kanata has standards for her patrons.”

“Tell Maz I have the package she requested,” the Mando said.

The droid let out a huff before saying, “Stay here.” It quickly retreated back into the door, and the hatch shut with a slam. A moment later, the larger door opened to reveal a darkened hallway inside. In the distance, music filtered up from the lounge.

The droid, detaching itself from the retractable arm hovered in the entry way. “Do come in,” it said as the Mando with Ben in tow crossed over the threshold.

The stone floor was cool against Ben’s bare feet. Something about the castle felt familiar, as if he’d been there before. He couldn’t help but feel safe within its walls.

“The Madame is in her office,” the droid stated and began to float down the hall. “If you would kindly follow me.”

Ben felt the bounty hunter grasp him by the upper arm as they followed the droid down the passageway.  
He’d made it this far and he hadn’t bolted. But he didn’t protest. The Mando had put up with him without getting too irritated. He wasn’t going to press his luck now. The hall winded toward the back of the building, and his fate waited for him with whoever this Maz was.

The office door was open when they reached their destination. A small wizened humanoid looked up from her desk. She was small, orange and very obviously not a family member.

Her jaw dropped for a moment before she yelled, “Ben Solo!”

Ben couldn’t help but flinch at the sound of his full name. Since he’d woken on Batuu, he’d made every effort to remain in the shadows. It’s how one survived on the streets of the Black Spire outpost, avoiding muggings and beatings alike. She should’ve been repulsed by his appearance—more dirt than clothing, a matted mass of filth and neglect. Yet it didn’t seem to matter as she rounded her desk and closed the distance between them.

She didn’t stop until she was standing right in front of him. She took one glance at the cuffs encircling Ben’s wrists. Her eyes darted to the bounty hunter before she said, “Were these really necessary?”

“He ran on me,” the Mando answered.

“Once!” Ben snapped back. “I bolted once. Then I cooperated.”

“And I had to taze him,” the bounty hunter added as if he were confessing his sins.

“I told you I didn’t want him harmed,” Maz interrupted.

“He wasn’t,” Mando retorted back. “He needs a bath, but he’s not hurt.”

Ben cocked an eyebrow, suddenly emboldened. “What do you mean I wasn’t hurt? It hurt like hell!” he blurted out before starting to tug the hem of his tunic up to show them the damage. “I’m pretty sure it left a mark!”

“You threw a grenade at me.”

“Do I look like I could afford a bomb?” Ben barked. “It was a piece of fruit!”

“Enough!” Maz said, effectively silencing everyone. Once she got both of the men’s attention, she added, “Take those ridiculous cuffs off him.”

The bounty hunter said nothing. He deactivated the cuffs, and they easily slid off. Ben’s hand immediately went to the other wrist and he began to rub it. The skin wasn’t chafed, but it felt soothing to chase the sensation of the restraint away.

Maz turned her attention back to Ben. “You were hard to find,” she said, a gentle smile spreading across her face, “and it appears that things have not been easy for you.”

Ben could only sadly shake his head as he agreed with her. No, life had not been easy by any stretch of the imagination. He could not begin to describe the anxiety that came living on the streets in Batuu or how painful that emptiness of hunger felt, how all-consuming it could be at times. No, he couldn’t describe the fear of not remembering his past or why he had been trapped in ass end of the known galaxy. If there was a bright point of the galaxy, then the streets of Batuu were the exact opposite of that.

“Mando told me you don’t remember anything,” Maz quietly added.

There was a certain element of shame hearing that out loud. His cheeks and ears felt warm, a telltale sign that they were starting to flush with embarrassment. Ben closed his eyes for a moment and hung his head in attempt to recall anything no matter how big or small. But the further he searched his mind for something familiar, the more frustrated he became.

Finally, he let out a sigh and conceded, “Just flashes of things,” he quietly answered. “But nothing makes sense.”

Maz held out her hand to him. She seemed well-intended, but those street instincts of his kicked in and he was wary of her hospitality. “You’re safe here, Ben,” she said. “Come, let’s get you cleaned up and settled in. We have plenty of time to fill in the blanks.”

“Why are you doing this?” he asked. There was that doubt creeping in again.

Maz didn’t wait for him to accept her offer. She gently grasped his hand in hers and patted it with the other. “You’ve not known much kindness in your life,” she explained. Her smile was soft, her voice reassuring. “Hopefully this will begin to make things right.”

He put up little resistance when she tugged on his hand and led him down the hallway. Maz turned back toward the bounty hunter. “Thank you for bringing this Foundling home, Din,” she said. “I’m going to get Ben settled in. Check with Kiva. There’s a suite already set up for you.”

“That’s not necessary, Maz,” Mando answered.

“You’ll find your payment there. My chef will send a meal up for you as well so you can…” She gestured to her head. Obviously, it had something to do with that helmet that never seemed to come off.

Mando offered her a slight bow of thanks. “Your generosity and friendship are always appreciated it,” he said before heading back to the reception hall. “I look forward to catching up.”

Ben held on to Maz’s hand as she led them to a lift. They rode in silence to the top floor before for the doors opened to reveal an expansive apartment. “My home is yours, Ben,” she said as they stepped foot into the home. “I thought you’d stay with me just as you did when you were a boy.”

The décor was impeccable, and he was afraid to touch anything without leaving a dirty smudge behind. It was warm and inviting and lacked the stench of raw sewage and rot that had been such a perpetual part of his existence on Batuu. Fresh flowers adorned the long table behind an ecru couch. Two domesticated lothcats—with their distinct pointed ears and ringed tails—folded around each other as they dozed on an overstuffed chair.

Ben let go of Maz’s hand and padded over to the glass doors leading out to a balcony. Beyond was the shimmering lake beyond the stand of tall pines.

“It’s nice,” he absently noted to no one.

“Let me show you to your room,” Maz said, gesturing to him from across the room and drawing him from his reverie.

He followed her down the hall to the last bedroom on the right. The room was immense and awash in crisp whites and muted earth tones. He could easily get lost in the expanse of it for days. The bed looked like it could swallow him whole with its fluffy pillows and plush duvet. It was broad enough for three people to sleep comfortably. A soft throw blanket kept watch from its place draped over the armchair in the corner.

“I took the liberty to have some clothing sent up here for you,” Maz said, gesturing to the stack of leggings and tunics, underwear and socks rested on the bench at the foot of the bed. “Hopefully you’ll find something that fits you.”

“Thank you,” was all he could manage to say as he took in the opulent surroundings. What a stark contrast to the freezing cold doorway he’d slept in the night before.

Maz turned his attention to the door on the other side of the room. “You have a full fresher,” she explained. It wasn’t a suggestion; it was a subtle command. He didn’t need anyone to tell him he reeked like refuse cast out on the street. “I’ll send the grooming droid up when you’re finished to cut your hair. In the morning, I want my physician to check you over. We’ll fit you for some boots then as well.”

He nodded. She really had thought of everything. It was all so overwhelming to take in all at once. Right now, it was just easier to do what he was told. There would be time later to figure things out.

“We’ll have dinner once you’re settled in a bit more,” she added. “Nothing too heavy to upset your stomach, so we’ll start with some porridge. How does okayu and some tea sound?”

“Amazing,” he answered. In all honesty, he’d eat anything she offered him. Having nothing truly helped him not be picky when it came to sustenance.

While the hospitality was more than he ever expected, he still had more questions than answers. One gnawed at him since he’d boarded the Mando’s ship. There was no good time to ask it. Before he had second thoughts, it just came spilling out.

“It’s Maz, right?” he asked. For everything she was doing for him, he wanted to make sure he had her name straight. He waited for her little nod before he continued, “Where’s my family?”

She remained silent for a moment that seemed to stretch into an eternity. He knew the answer long before she took a breath to answer. He could see it in her eyes, how that sparkle of joy she had when she had first seen him yielded to something more solemn, something mournful.

“They’re gone, Ben,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “The war has managed to claim them all. You’re all that’s left.”

Nothing prepared him for that realization, and it hit him like a sucker punch to the gut. It was silly to mourn faceless people who were no more than concepts and dreams, but he could not deny the sting of loss and loneliness that threatened to rip his insides out with a sense of grief that he didn’t realize he was capable of feeling for parents he could not remember. All he could do was nod and accept that reality.

“I’m sorry,” was all she could manage to say.

Ben’s eyes prickled with unshed tears, and he couldn’t find his voice. “It’s okay,” he lied, his voice thick with emotion as his heart began to ache.

“If they’re dead,” he managed to spit out, “why did you bother to find me?”

“Because the belong you seek isn’t found in the past,” Maz said. “It’s in the present.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Maz smiled again. He felt safe with her even if she never seemed to answer his questions. “It means we will talk more once you’re settled in.”

After she left the bedroom, Ben wandered his way to the fresher. Two sinks sat side-by-side underneath a giant mirror that ran the length of the room before yielding to the second room that housed a large soaking tub, lav and glass encased hyrdofresher. Plush towels waited for him on the heated rack. Over the months, he would occasionally catch of glimpse of himself in shop windows as he wandered through the outpost, but nothing prepared him for what he saw as he stripped out of his clothing in the antechamber. He didn’t recognize the gaunt and haunted figure in the mirror.

Sores from a combination of poor hygiene and malnutrition riddled his body. Where once was lean muscle, bones now jutted out, and he could count every one of his ribs. A haunted face hidden behind a scraggly beard on his chin stared back at him.

He sighed and headed to the fresher. It took him a few moments to figure out the array of knobs. It just sprayed water, for kriff’s sake, it shouldn’t have to be that complicated. He adjusted the controls until the water was nearly scalding hot and the bathroom began to fill with steam before he stepped under the spray. For the first few minutes he was motionless, mesmerized as the grime washed off him as he watched the filth slide down the drain.

The choice of toiletries was overwhelming. Shampoos, frilly foams and bath gels, bars of soap that smelled like flowers and honey presented themselves on the shelf, a far cry from the astringent cleansers the Mission let him use when they opened their public hydros once every two weeks in the warmer months. He soaped himself down from head to toe, though it was hard to work the shampoo through the impossible knots in his hair. He scrubbed at his skin until it was red and just this side of raw before he started to feel the first semblance of being clean. After that, he let the water sluice down his back until the last of the shampoo in his hair was rinsed away. Then and only then did he allow himself to lean forward until his forehead came to rest on the glass wall and he began to cry.

o.o.o.

The days blended into weeks, and before he realized it, Ben had been Maz’s guest for nearly a month. His hair, that the grooming droid had to cut back so short to remove the knots and mats, was finally beginning to grow out again. Not sure if he’d had a beard before, he’d decided it suited him. It was easier than shaving every day. With each passing week, his clothes began to fit better. They weren’t nearly as loose around the waist and no longer felt a size too big. He still preferred looser, softer knit tunics that didn’t scratch at his skin, finding himself drawn to rich earth tones that remind him of the lush forest outside. After wandering the streets for months without any shoes, he found boots too restrictive and stiff. On dry and warmer days, he often eschewed footwear all together and would walk the paths outside without anything on his feet.

Yet Maz didn’t seem like she was in any hurry to help him recover his memories. In fact, his family name was still as much of a mystery as the rest of him. Solo. The name was quite fitting as he tried to figure out his place in the galaxy. While surrounded by dozens of denizens at Max’s castle, he still was very much alone. “You’re not ready,” Maz kept trying to assure him as if she was protecting him from something harmful. She’d kept reminding him that, with all things related to the Force, everything had a way of working out on their own schedules. He was getting sick of the word _patience_.

It was in the small hours of the night when flickering images from the past would visit him in his dreams. The other night it had been bald humanoid that towered over him as he caressed his cheek. That nightmare had left him gasping and shaking when he had woke. Other nights he was graced with what felt like peaceful, dreamless sleep. But tonight, he dreamt the one he loved returning to when he was given a chance, even if it invariably left him with more questions than answers every time he woke up.

This time the dream was so vivid. It felt like it was occurring in his own bedroom.

Tonight, he dreamed of her, that beautiful woman dressed in white. Hazel eyes, freckles that dotted her skin, and hand that always seemed to be reaching out for him. She visited him often in his dreams, sometimes surrounded by the same trees that surrounded the lake outside. Other times she came to him in a burning throne room. But his favorite dreams of this mystery woman where of her wrapped in a blanket, seated beside a crackling fire.

He never felt alone when she visited his dreams.

But tonight, it was the first time the woman talked to him as all the sound around him seemed to be swallowed into a vacuum. His ears popped, and she appeared beside his bed. This time, she wasn’t dressed in white. She wore the colors of the desert and her hair was down in a single pleat that draped over her shoulder.

He felt the mattress dip where she sat beside him on the bed. Her hand was warm against his face as she swept the hair from his eyes. She felt so very real.

“Your hair is so short now,” she commented with a soft smile.

He wanted to sit up. He wanted to reach out and touch her, but worried that if he moved, the dream would come to an end, and he would once again wake to an empty room. “It was a mess,” he answered. “It had to come off.”

Her hand softly traced the outline of his ear. They were the part of his body he hated the most. They were big, and they stuck out far too much. But her touch was gentle and inviting, and he felt himself leaning into her hand.

“I like it,” she whispered. “The cut suits you.”

“Why does this feel so real this time,” he asked.

She smiled again, but this time her eyes were alight with unshed tears. “Who says dreams aren’t real?” she questioned.

Her name was on tip of his tongue yet still so far out of reach. She was done of the missing pieces to the puzzle of unlocking his past, that he had no doubt. She tucked the duvet around him. For the first time in forever, things felt right. He wanted her in his life, whoever she was.

“I know you have a lot of questions, Ben,” she soothed. “I’ll be there soon, and I’ll help you.”

Her promise sounded so achingly familiar.

“I don’t even know your name,” he said. “Who are you?

The woman leaned forward and placed a soft kiss on his forehead before answering, “Someone who loves you.”

Ben reached out to touch her, but his hand passed right through her as she faded into nothingness. In that moment, his mind tugged at his subconsciousness and pulled him from slumber. He opened his eyes and found himself alone in his bedroom. The ceiling fan blades quietly kept time as they spun above his bed.

“Come back,” he said to no one.

o.o.o

It had been two days since he dreamed of her, and he couldn’t shake how real she had been, how soft her lips were against his forehead, or how he woke painfully hard and yearning for her. While it didn’t unlock any of the answers for him, it made him feel a little less alone in the galaxy. Sure, Maz had been nothing short of a lifeline. She’d taken him into her home and helped him heal, but the mystery woman dominated his every waking thought.

_She loved him._

He prayed to gods he did not believe in that she wasn’t some fantasy rooted in nothing more than wishes and dreams. He was Force sensitive. There was no denying that fact after he’d stopped the bounty hunter’s stun blast. Since then, the Force had been all but absent. He didn’t know how to summon its power, and he certainly didn’t know when or how it worked. Yet he was certain her visit had something to do with it. He didn’t tell a soul about that night, not even Maz. It was his little secret, and he wasn’t ready to share.

But two days later, he began to doubt what _soon_ meant. Life had to go on until she visited him in his dreams again. Ben settled into his routine. His walks along Nymeve Lake grew longer by the day. It was quieter outside. He didn’t have to deal with Maz’s patrons, many of them rowdy and raucous. At night, when the castle was bustling with activity and the noise from the lounge became overwhelming, he always seemed to find himself drawn to the bonfire that was lit every evening on the lakeshore. It didn’t matter if he didn’t remember anything in those quiet moments. He could lose himself in the fire’s warmth and its mesmerizing flames. Most nights he’d sit in one of the chairs ringing the firepit and listen to the sounds of the forest until others came down to savor its warm glow. Other nights, he’d linger long after the others would leave and drift to sleep in a chair, finally waking when the fire had been reduced to only a few glowing ambers and the sun had begun to peek above the trees on the other side of the lake.

The air was warm, and fireflies danced in the forest’s darkness. In the distance, he could hear the music from the band playing at the castle, but it didn’t drown out the sound of an owl hooting from a nearby tree. The flames from the bonfire stretched up to touch the stars above, and the air smelled of pine and smoke. Ben leaned back in his chair and absorbed the fire’s warmth and watched the tiny sparks from the fire rise into the sky and scatter toward the lake before turning to ash. His head was quiet in moments like this, and it felt good not to worry about anything. As the couple sitting across the fire got up and started to make their way back to the castle, he nodded his goodnight to them and closed his eyes. It felt like a good night to doze by the fire.

He was nearly asleep when he heard footsteps approach from the path leading to the castle. They weren’t loud, but they were enough to rouse him. His ears perked up when he heard Maz’s voice.

“He comes down here every night,” Maz explained to someone else. “He tends to keep to himself.”

Ben craned his neck around as Maz and her guest emerged from the path. A woman dressed like a smuggler walked beside her. Their eyes met and the woman let out a small gasp before sprinting the remaining distance to where he was sitting. By the time she reached him, tears were streaming down her cheeks. He stood to greet her. 

"It's you," he whispered. He would recognize her anywhere, the woman from his dreams. She was even more beautiful her person. 

Before he could react, she launched herself into his embrace as squeezed tightly, her face buried into his sweater. She held him tight for a few long moments before she let him go and looked up at him.

"You're really here," she said with a watery smile. 

"I've dreamed about you," was all he could say in response as he pulled away. Yes, he wanted to bury his face in her hair and pretend everything was fine, but he’d be lying to her, lying to himself.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

That fight or flight instinct started to bubble to the surface. His heart start to jackhammer in his chest. “I…” he hesitated before finally confessing, “I don’t even know your name.”

“I’m Rey,” she answered with a shy smile as Maz nodded her goodbye and headed back up to the castle.

This wasn’t the first time they’d met. That he was the one thing he was certain, but it still felt like he was meeting her for the first time.

“Maz said you’re getting stronger,” she said breaking the silence.

Small talk, it was a good place to start. He swiped his hair back and nervously scratched at his scalp. “I guess you can call it that,” he replied, gesturing to the chair beside his. After she accepted the invitation, he sat down in his and added, “I was in pretty rough shape when I got here. It’s remarkable how much more energy you have when you don’t have a belly full of parasites.”

Rey let out a sad laugh filled with empathy. “I suspect that’s true,” she sighed. Changing the subject, she asked, “Any idea how you wound up on Batuu?”

Ben leaned forward in his seat until his forearms were resting on his knees. He shook his head and answered, “Not a clue. I just woke up and I was there. My leg was broken, I wasn’t wearing anything, and I don’t remember anything before that.”

“Nothing before that?”

He closed eyes and forced himself to remember. Nothing more than fleeting feelings and images that didn’t make sense came to the fore. Something between an exasperated sigh and an irritated growl escaped his lips. “And the frustrating thing is no one even wants to tell about my life before that. _You’re not ready._ Not ready? What does Maz think, that I’m a child or something? I know my name, but not much more than that.”

Rey leaned in and placed a hand on his knee. His first instinct was to pull away. He didn’t need anyone patronizing him, and he certainly didn’t need anyone feeling sorry for him.

“No, I don’t feel sorry for you,” she said as though she could read his mind. “I did say I would help you. I came as soon as I knew you were here.”

That was impossible. He couldn’t help but stare at her after that comment. Dreams weren’t real. The dream Rey—not the one sitting beside him had made that promise. “Wait…” he stammered.

“That wasn’t a dream,” she said. “The Force used to connect us, and I think it’s starting to happen again.”

His brow knit together in a frown. “That doesn’t make sense,” he said.

She rose to her feet and smoothed out her leggings. Extending a hand to him to help him stand, she said, “I have an idea. If you’re willing to go for a short walk, I may be able help find those memories of yours.”

He stared at her hand for a moment. It would be easy to be a coward and head back to his room, refusing her offer and settling for the semblance of peace he’d found in Maz’s home. He could start over, he lied to himself, and create a new life, one that he could make solely his moving forward. After all, his family was dead. There was nothing tethering him to that past. Or he could take that chance, no matter how terrifying it may be and possibly reclaim his past and feel whole again, maybe one with her if he were to be so lucky. She loved him, at least that’s what the dream version of her had declared.

He cautiously took her hand; it was so much smaller than his and stood. Her face lit up with a smile as he accepted her offer. “Where’re you taking me?” he asked.

Rey tugged at his hand for him to follow and she led him back up the path. “Back to the ship,” she answered. “I think I may know how to help you.”

They walked together in comfortable silence. As they drew closer to the castle, he could feel the throb from the music inside reverberate in his chest. A trio of drunken Bothans sang loudly to themselves as they stumbled their way down to the lake. He nearly tripped over a discarded bottle. That was one thing he good at since he moved into the castle—he always seemed to earn his keep by picking up the trash tossed aside each night as he meandered the paths in the morning.

Ben recognized the ragged freighter from earlier in the evening as he just happened to have caught a glimpse of it as it had entered atmo. The Corellian YT-1300 stood out among the smaller ships on the tarmac.

“You pilot that flying trashcan?” he asked.

She kiddingly elbowed him in the ribs. “It’s got it where it counts,” she retorted as they neared the ship.

The gangplank was down, and she hurried up the ramp. Ben followed close behind. As soon as he was inside the ship, the smells were achingly familiar—engine grease and fried circuitry. He’d been in this ship before, that much seemed obvious. Somehow, he knew the winding hallway led one way to the cockpit and the other way toward a large lounge.

“Is there still a Djarik table next to the couches?” he asked before realized what he was saying?

Rey turned to him, a toothy grin on her face. “Yes!” she exclaimed. “It’s still there. What are you remembering?”

The entered the lounge, and Ben quickly scanned his surroundings. Closing his eyes, he could hear a Wookiee growl and hand a hydrospanner to a man that had to be his father. The both looked so huge, so tall. It was as though he was looking through the eyes of a small child.

“I’ve been on this ship many times,” he said in a hushed tone. “I think I was a child at the time.”

She nodded enthusiastically at him. “Yes!” she affirmed. “This is the _Millennium Falcon_ , your father’s ship.”

“And now it’s yours,” he commented. Horrifying realization crept into his guts as something he hadn’t considered crossed his mind. What if she wasn’t his lover, what if she…

“You’re not my sister, are you?” he said, unable to hide the anxiety that permeated his voice.

She blinked before she answered. With an embarrassed giggle, she answered, “It’s not my ship. Technically it’s yours since you’re the next of kin.”

Ben let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding.

“And no, I’m not your sister. We most definitely aren’t related.

“That’s a relief,” he smiled back at her. 

“What else do you remember?” she pushed.

The memories were there. Being inside the _Falcon_ seemed to help. Everywhere he looked, he felt surrounded by the past. It was all there, the answers he was searching for. All it would take was a small nudge, and he was convinced the memories would continue to trickle back.

“Wait here,” she said as she headed toward the other side of the ship. “Let me get something I think may help.”

He nodded and watched her dart into the hallway. As soon as she was gone, he turned his attention back to the Dejarik table. Its checkerboard surface was weathered and worn. The edges were cracked and chipped, and one of the control buttons was missing altogether. A tile covered in electrical tape had taken its place. Ben powered the table on. The eight warring creatures emerged on the board, each striking an intimidating pose. The K’lor’slug’s tongue darted in and out of its mouth while the Monnok’s tail twitched back and forth.

Ben smiled as he watched the figures snarl and sneer at each other. He couldn’t remember the rules to the game, but it didn’t stop him from making a move on the board. The Kintan Strider sprung to life and lumbered over to the Houjix swinging its blocky hammer. Drawing the hammer back, it swung at the smaller creature and sent it careening across the board into the Grimtaash who let out a piercing shriek in response.

 _… It’s a perfectly fair move!_ he heard a young boy call out from his memories as the child made the same move on the board. A Wookiee barked its response back at the child. _No way, Chewie. I won fair and square. I don’t cheat—you cheat!_ The Wookiee roared something back, and it only angered the boy. _Yeah, well, I learned that move from you, you walking carpet. No, don’t you dare turn off the board…I’m telling Dad! ..._

Tears gathered in his eyes, and Ben tipped his head back—a trick he’d quickly learned to keep them from spilling on to his cheeks as the memory faded away. He was, no doubt, the little boy who argued and sniped with a beloved Wookiee over a board game. He was so lost in the memory, that he didn’t hear Rey return.

Ben jumped with a small start when he realized she was back. He quickly wiped the tears away with the back of his hand and flipped the game off. The creatures quickly winked out and the board was once again empty.

“You okay?” she asked, her voice filled with concern.

“Yeah,” he lied. “The board reminded me of something, that’s all.”

Rey closed the distance. She held something on a golden chain in her hands. “I have something that may help stir up some memories,” she said. “I know you haven’t quite figured out how to use the Force, but it still surrounds you. And I think if we can get you to focus, we may be able to unlock whatever is hiding your memories away.”

She held up the object she’d been carrying, two gold tone dice tethered together by a matching chain. As scratched and old as they were, they still shone in the light.

“These were your father’s,” she explained. “Sometimes holding something with strong ties to people and points in time can trigger pretty powerful memories.”

Ben cocked an eyebrow, not quite ready to trust her on this. “You really think this will work?”

“We won’t know until we try,” she answered.

“I suppose not,” he quipped back, his lips turning into the smallest of grins. He was willing to take that chance There was no harm in trying.

“Hold out your hands,” she instructed as he cupped his hands to receive the dice. They fell into his waiting palms with a gentle _clink_. “Now I want you to close your eyes and focus on them. Who did they belong to? Where have they traveled.”

Almost immediately, Rey’s voice faded away, and Ben was flooded with a barrage of images and sounds from the past…

 _His mother rocking his small body against hers, rubbing small circles into his back after another nightmare, signing Mirrorbright for the umpteenth time … Giggles and laughter as he thundered through the house, three of his friends from school only a few footsteps behind in hot pursuit … Still small enough that he fit on his father’s lap the_ Falcon’s _cockpit, his dad gently encouraging him to pull the lever back and his father’s pride when he’d successfully eased the ship into hyperspace … a tearful goodbye with promises to visit that never were fulfilled … his uncle looming over him with a lightsaber drawn … Snoke… Snoke … Snoke._

_… a frightened Rey from their first meeting and all the wonder that he had at such a powerful and beautiful young woman … Rey shivering and wrapped in a blanket as she reached out with her hand to touch him and how healing it had been for their fingers to connect, even if it were for just second or two…_

_…his father’s hand on his cheek as the light exited his eyes … Rey healing his broken body and fractured soul … His father forgiving him and giving him the courage make things right…_

_… the joy of fighting by her side, no longer enemies … the blinding pain of his bones shattering on impact and the agony of pulling himself out from the abyss … the despair of being too late and finding her cooling body on the floor of the arena …_

_…the Force’s warmth as his life force coursed through his hand and into her still form … the shock and utter awe as she opened her eyes and called him by a name he’d rejected a life time before … her gentle touch against his face, his ear … her lips pressed against his, and everything feeling right with the galaxy … the cold creeping through him as he scrambled to memorize every freckle on her face, her smile, her eyes …_

_… then nothing as oblivion called and the world turned dark._

Ben’s eyes snapped open as he let out a gasp. The dice slipped from his hand and tumbled to the floor. The tears start to flow, streaming down each cheek in twin rivulets.

Tears, silence, realization, acceptance.

Life.

“Rey …” he murmured.

Ben Solo remembered everything, and it was too heavy of a burden to bear. Their eyes met for a second, and the woman he’d loved, the one he’d celebrated as life itself had slipped away on Exegol was there waiting for him, ready to catch him if he fell.

He let out a strangled cry, and he felt like he was drowning. He couldn’t catch his breath. Overwhelmed by the world around him, he dropped to his knees and retreated into a ball. His body started to shake as every mistake he’d ever made, every unforgivable sin from his past assailed his mind.

But Rey was there beside him, her voice filled with warmth and compassion. “What do you need?” she asks.

“Don’t let go,” was all he could choke out.

She didn’t have to be asked twice, and she drew him into her protective arms There was no more holding the floodgates closed. He melted into her waiting embrace, and the sobs began in earnest, mourning everything he’d lost over the years as well as celebrating the promises of a better future now.

“You’re not alone, Ben,” she whispered into his hair. “Not anymore.”

He cried until he had no more tears to shed. When he finally looked up, she was there to thumb them away. Her hand was warm against his cheek.

“You died,” he said, recalling the events on Exegol.

Tears filled her eyes as well. She tucked a strand of hair behind his ear before answering, “You saved me.”

“How long was I gone?” he asked.

Rey didn’t hesitate in her answer when she blurted it out, “Six hundred eighty-one days since you left,” she said. “How long since you’ve been back?”

Ben closed his eyes for a moment and tried to do the math in his head. “Almost a year, I think,” he answered as he recalled three seasons marked by fear and hunger, isolation and pain.

She drew closer, her fingers traced the bow of his lip. “If I kiss you, do you promise not to vanish again?”

Oh, how he wanted to kiss her. He wanted to drown in her eyes, but he couldn’t shake the doubt that none of this was real. It had to be a dream. It was only a matter of time before this reality faded away, and he was back on Batuu, a nameless body shivering in the cold, slowly starving to death. Or worse, absorbed by the Force and gone completely.

“I don’t deserve this,” he whispered.

“What, a second chance?” she replied.

“Any of this,” he answered as he looked away. “My family is all gone because of me.”

Rey’s hand was on his chin, gently tugging at him until he looked her in the eyes. There she was with that acceptance and forgiveness that he could never find in himself. “But I’m alive because of you,” she said.

His larynx bobbed and he swallowed and contemplated what she had said. “I’d do it again if it meant you’d be safe,” he said. It wasn’t even a question. He’d happily lay his worthless life down her. “I couldn’t imagine a galaxy without you in it.”

Her eyes glistened with tears as she traced the shell of his ear with her fingertips. “Now you know how I felt for the past year.”

Her hands cradled his face, and she drew him closer. Her lips were soft against his, desperate and seeking. This time they didn’t have to rush. It wasn’t a race against time to memorize every second before being separated. His had slid up her back to complete the embrace until he reached the back of her neck. It was where he was meant to be.

Neither was all that experienced. Before Rey, the last person he’d kissed was at his uncle’s academy, a frantic experiment on a dare in a utility closet, each afraid that they would be caught.

Attachment and attraction had been forbidden. But with Rey he didn’t have to hide or be ashamed. He loved her with every fiber of his being. He wanted to shout it from the rooftops.

Her kisses started off gentle, tentative, but it didn’t take long for them to become urgent and possessive as her tongue probed experimentally into his mouth. Bens heart hammered in his chest. He was certain she could feel it crash against hers.

Emboldened, he pressed a trail of kisses up the column of her neck until he found that sweet spot beneath her jaw where her pulse thrummed against his lips, leaving her breathless.

“Wait,” she moaned, pulling away for a moment. “The floor hurts my knees.”

Before Ben could react, she was on her feet pulling him to a stand. His tunic bunched in her hands as she pulled him down the corridor. She giggled as they collided against the wall, and his arms caged her in on both sides. A few stolen kisses, and they completed the journey to the captain’s quarters.

He didn’t want to think about how it was his parents’ cabin when he was a child, or how the last time he’d slept in the that bed, he’d fit snuggly between his mother and father. The room smelled like Rey, a combination of clean linen and sunshine—if sunshine had a scent. She backed him up until the back of his calves bumped against the bunk, and he steadied himself not to stumble into the bed.

“Be with me,” she breathed as she tugged her vest off. Her tunic came of in quick succession. “I don’t want to be alone anymore.”

She didn’t have ask him twice. Rey shivered when his lips hovered over the junction between her neck and shoulders, and goosebumps erupted across her skin, and marveled at how the gentlest of touch made her skin flush. Like an inexperienced schoolboy, he fumbled with her breastband, thankful that she didn’t tease him when he couldn’t figure out how to release the binding. She smiled coyly before she guided his hands to remove the garment. Her boots, leggings and panties joined them on the floor seconds later.

“Now you,” she whispered as she tugged at the hem of his tunic before her hands traveled below to ghost across his belly. Shivers ran through his body. “Off it goes,” she said as she helped him take his clothes off.

This was also new and terrifying and amazing as they tumbled to the waiting bed. He savored every moment—the softness of her skin, the way she bit her lip as his fingertips glided over her curves, how just the gentle touch of his thumb brushing against one of her nipples made her softly moan for more, or how she guided his hand to the thatch of hair at the junction of her legs to explore the wet folds within.

Nothing was rushed, and time was marked by lips and teeth against sensitive skin and breathy sighs that made his ears roar. He had a lifetime to explore every curve of her body, but he wanted to commit it to memory immediately. All lean muscle and tanned skin, Rey could not have been more beautiful.

He let out a gasp as her hand wrapped around his cock. He’d never been so hard in his life, and if she wasn’t careful, it would be over before it even started. He covered her hand with his and guided it over his erection. “Like this,” he whispered, demonstrating what felt good. His stomach quivered as he groaned at the contact. It would be so easy to let her stroke him to completion. It felt so much better than his own hand. But it wasn’t about him. Ben wanted to show her how much he loved her. Words would never suffice.

Gently he eased her on to her back. Leaning forward, he pressed a kiss into the hollow between her breasts, the drew her nipple into his mouth and experimentally sucked.

“Ben,” she breathed, her voice but a ragged whisper.

He released her with a soft pop before easing himself between her thighs. She drew him into a kiss as if to urge him on.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he said.

“You won’t,” she answered, her palm against his cheek.

Ben nervously gripped his length and lined himself up against her opening. The first nudge was tentative, experimental. She was impossibly wet. A breathy moan escaped her lips and she nodded for him to continue. He gently thrust once, and he was slowly sheathed, his hips cradled against her pelvis.

“It’s just us now,” she breathed, and he grinned in response, his eyes crinkled up, and those deep dimples that he’d only let her see once before emerged and transformed his face into the embodiment of joy. Oh, how that simple phrase had taken on such a starkly different meaning compared to the first time they had met.

“I love you, Rey,” he said as he began to move in earnest, his lips seeking out her. A kiss, a caress, and he drank her in.

Their bodies rocked together, her hips meeting each of his strokes. They fit together perfectly, as if they were made for each other. He wanted these moments of bliss to last forever, but before long he felt her start to twitch and gasp beneath him. Her cheeks and chest were flushed pink. She close and was chasing her release. He wasn’t much far behind.

He picked up the pace as she clung tighter to his body. A thin sheen of sweat coated both of their bodies.

“Ben…” she quietly moaned, her blunt fingers digging into his back, her tongue wetting her own lips. “I’m … I…”

“That’s it,” he whispered. “Let go.”

That was all she needed. She gasped once before she arched her back and her body went taught and she groaned his name in his ear.

As she shuddered around him, Ben buried his face in the crook of her neck. He thrust once, twice more before tumbling over the precipice with her.

They clung together, riding out the aftershocks of their shared climax. Careful not to crush her, he collapsed on top of her for a moment while he caught his breath while she carded a hand through his sweaty hair, the room awash in the thick smell of sex.

When he felt himself go soft, he gently withdrew and rolled over to his back. He loved how Rey fit perfectly in the crook of his arm and savored how it felt for her head to rest against his chest. This perfect moment balanced out a lifetime of misery. Spent and too exhausted to move, they simply savored each other’s touch. Her kisses never tasted sweeter.

After twenty years, he’d finally found what he’d been searching for—belonging.

Six hundred and eighty-one days before, Ben Solo had died. But as sleep called to them both, the first day of the rest of his life began. The past was dead, and all that lie ahead was a promise of unlimited possibilities.

He was finally home, and for the first time in his life, he was no longer alone.


End file.
